


Daybreak

by slashmarks



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmarks/pseuds/slashmarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>President Anna Krol finds a familiar face in her new Chief of Staff, Gabriela Rosales. But they both find themselves confronting more than just the daily workings of the executive branch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abluestocking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abluestocking/gifts).



> Beta'd by [tassledown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown).
> 
> Some liberties have been taken with the US political process, the way tranquilizers work and the architecture of the White House. All mistakes are my own.

“And this is the candidate I like the best.” Daniel flipped pulled out the last file and slid it across the desk. 

“Mhmm?” Anna took it, but waited to hear her advisor's opinion before beginning to read.

“Gabriela Rosales. Former New York state senator, has some experience under Houston last term. You can read the details there. She's a very good political match, and from what I hear, very effective woman. She also has a military service record, nothing really exceptional.”

“The name sounds familiar.”

“You would have been at Columbia at the same time, I understand.”

Columbia. She stretched her mind back to college, and abruptly realized where Gabriela Rosales was familiar from. A twenty year old sense memory hit her: sweaty skin, long hair in her face, and the smell of her roommate's pot habit.

Anna took a breath in, locked her face, and hoped her face wasn't too red. “Yes, we, ah, met a few times.”

“What did you think of her?”

“We weren't close,” she said. “She was the head of the school's GSA, I think we met in that capacity.” They had; Anna distinctly remembered them disrupting a meeting with an argument that ended in Rosales calling her an assimilationist sell out, and her retaliating by accusing the other woman of being a raving idealist. “If you say she's effective, I definitely believe it.” Daniel must have known half of Washington, whether personally or not. 

“I'll set up interviews with her and the other two, then?”

“Of course. Thank you.” She rose, reaching out to shake his hand. “Before you go, I want to thank you for your work over the past two years.”

“I know, you couldn't have run the country without me.” Daniel's lips quirked. “It's been a pleasure, Ms. President. I wish I could stay, truly.”

“I know. I wish I could keep you.” Daniel's second heart attack had made that decision for both of them. “Good luck.” 

She might have lingered, but the phone on her desk rang with a transferred call, and Daniel took it as a dismissal, leaving her office as she picked it up.

*

Anna's interviews with the other possibilities led her to firmly agree with Daniel's conclusions. Gabriela was able to replace him a week later. Her first week was uneventful. Anna had other things to occupy her.

Such as the Senate minority leader. Anna looked over the desk at the woman and resisted the urge to slide down her glasses and pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“I understand,” she said at last, “That you say that you absolutely cannot compromise on the subject of any sort of universal income.”

“I apologize, Ms. President, but the Republican Party base is, well...”

Anna cut her off when she started to hesitate, having heard this screed several times. “The same as you cannot possibly compromise on the subject of tax increases.”

“Yes.”

“Or environmental protection legislation. Or gun control. Or,” she skimmed her mental image of the agenda, “Foreign aid spending.”

“We hadn't gotten to that last one yet,” Linda Caldwell said.

“Were you going to agree to compromise on the subject when we did? Out of curiosity, you understand.”

“Likely not. We'll have to see when we get there.” Linda smiled then, for the first time since they had sat down almost an hour ago. 

“Very well. Let's put aside the subject of income for a moment. The United States is currently in the bottom ten of industrialized nations in foreign aid expenditure, both in GDP percentage and in real tax dollars, despite being one of the richest countries in the world. In light of our involvement in certain international crises, it has been suggested that we bear an increased responsibility and should reflect that in our actions. I understand there is a bill being proposed that would state as such, along with some specific suggestions. Your response to the idea of bipartisan support would be...?”

“Out of the question.” Linda looked almost apologetic. “United States tax dollars should be used for the benefit of our citizens.”

“In what way does a more stable, peaceful world not benefit our citizens?”

“What guarantee do we have that foreign aid would go towards creating that world, and not simply be squandered away by foreign governments? We all know that amount of corruption in many of the least stable countries. Shouldn't we spend money internally, where we know where it's going?”

And yet she had dismissed flatly the four previous proposals. Anna reached up to touch her glasses, took them off entirely, and cleaned them on her jacket briefly.

When she had put them back on, she met Linda's eyes. “Ms. Caldwell. You received a copy of the agenda before this meeting; several items were ones you proposed yourself. You requested this meeting. If it would save time to ask you which items you _are_ prepared to discuss productively, it would be of immeasurable assistance.

“It depends on what you consider productive, Ms. President.” Linda was starting to look frustrated. That might be good.

“You know my policies. If any of these subjects are ones you feel you could meet me halfway on...”

“The bill on tax increases,” Linda said. 

“Yes?” Anna resisted the urge to sit up slightly. That was a choice she had hoped for; Democrat support for it was not exactly universal. Tax increases did not win elections.

“It's far too broad in scope, and increasing them by the same percentage per income class is ridiculous. Fifteen percent of a millionaire's income is different from fifteen percent of a middle class income.”

“I agree,” Anna said, actually sitting up. The shock on Linda's face was a palpable demonstration of how the rest of the meeting had gone. She belatedly recalled that Senator Linda Caldwell came originally from one of the poorer districts in West Virginia, and might well object to some of her party's more blatantly corporate ideals. How on earth such a woman had been elected her party's leader in the Senate was a question for another day. “It's my understanding that several Republican senators flat out refused to vote for increased tax cuts for the rich.”

“Terry Pittman is – don't quote me on this – an unrealistic kook. The Republican Party needs to make legislation that appeals to its base if it's going to survive.”

“So you think you can swing some amount of support?”

“If you cut the bottom and mid income tax increases from the bill instead of increasing the top income ones.”

Anna nodded, slowly. The lower class tax amounts were high, although in her opinion, the middle class raises were basically insignificance. If it would get the bill passed, though, it would be worth it. “I'll speak to the bill's sponsors and see how receptive they are to the idea.” She pulled her tablet over and typed a note to that effect quickly. “Next subject. How do you feel about gun control?”

“Absolutely not,” Linda said, crossing her arms.

Anna tapped her pen on the desk. “Do you know the statistics on gun violence in the last year alone?” 

“And what are you proposing to do about it? How many of the perpetrators actually had prior criminal convictions?”

“Why don't you tell me,” because she was sure Caldwell would anyway.

“Two of fifteen, both of which were stalking offenses punished with probation, and wouldn't be covered by the bill anyway.” Linda leaned in slightly. “The only crimes that predict involvement in gun violence are crimes related to domestic violence, which are almost never brought to trial and rarely convicted once they are. Both facts I know you know, as you brought them up when speaking at Chatham University last year.”

“Are you about to ask me who's pandering to their party now?” Anna asked dryly. The word 'gotcha' was practically written on the younger woman's face.

“Are you?”

“What I'm hearing you say is that to really address gun violence, we'd need to ban guns entirely.” Anna leaned forward lightly.

Linda shook her head. “That's--”

“Out of the question?”

“Yes,” she said irritably. “I realize you grew up in New York City, but some of us come from places where you need to be able to shoot at the feral dogs if you want to leave the house at night without being bitten or chased..” She subsided slightly, sitting back in her chair before adding, “And hunting is an important food source for many low income rural Americans.”

“Next subject,” Anna said, rather than pressing her to shout. As much as she would have liked to continue, they were running low on time.

“Can you be more specific about environmental legislation?”

All in all, the meeting ran for another half an hour, fifteen minutes past when it was scheduled to end, but she had three points of potential compromise and felt the morning had been well spent. It had definitely turned out more pleasant than had first seemed possible.

With light shoulders and less dread of the Senate session reopening later that week, Anna got up and extended her hand over the table. 

Linda started back slightly and visibly hesitated.

Anna stiffened and consciously did not grit her teeth. “You don't have to shake my hand, Senator Caldwell.” She dropped it pointedly, tone frosty.

“I'm sorry, I'm just not – like that.”

“Like?” Anna asked in a tone of exaggerated patience, and was unsurprised that the woman got up and fled the office without an answer.

She dropped back into her chair and put her face in her hands, breathing slowly. The lightness was gone.

*

Anna tried to shake it off, but the incident stayed with her all day, especially once she was done with the necessary paperwork in the evening.

She wished she could call one of her other gay friends to rant about it with, but if she called the handful she was still in contact with at this time of night, they'd probably assume it was an emergency.

She passed by Gabriela's office heading to her bedroom, then hesitated. There was someone who might understand the situation right here, and judging by the light under the door, she was still working, not just awake. Anna knocked.

At the distracted “C'min!” she turned the knob and entered. “Do you have a minute?”

“I-- yes, of course.” Gabriela made like she was about to stand, but stayed at the desk when Anna pulled out a chair to sit.

“You can say no, this isn't about work,” she clarified.

“Well, now I'm curious, too.” Gabriela typed something and then laid her hands down. “Besides, any excuse to stop reading emails from Terry Pittman, tell you the truth.”

“Him again?” Anna muttered, pushing her hair out of her face.

“I'm sorry?”

“Never mind. It's – have you ever met Linda Caldwell?”

“The Senate minority leader? Maybe once. Why?”

“I had a meeting with her this morning,” Anna began. It did not take long to describe the incident.

“That's – _really_?” Gabriela asked, with a satisfying amount of frustrated sympathy. “She thought you were hitting on her?”

“Apparently.”

“You know, I thought – if anyone could get away from that kind of petty homophobia..”

“Oh, I wish.” Anna grimaced. “It's usually not that blatant anymore, since you have to be a seriously dedicated neocon to accuse the President of being a predatory lesbian or a blight on humanty to her face, but it does happen.”

“And when it's not that blatant?”

She shrugged. “You know, my first year in office basically all of the White House interns that had any contact with me at all were men. I finally went to talk to the guy who was in charge of hiring at the time, and told him we were going to get a Civil Rights Act law suit for gender discrimination, and I wanted to know what he was playing at anyway.”

“And he said?”

“He wanted to make sure I wasn't distracted.” She smiled tightly. “He seemed to think he was doing me a favor.”

“Because that's been such a concern for every previous male president?”

“Exactly. Some of whom evidently weren't trustworthy around female interns, although that should really disqualify you for leading so much as town meeting, let alone the country.” She shook her head. “It's enough to make me really glad I decided to run as a Catholic.”

“I was surprised to see that when you were campaigning,” Gabriela commented, leaning back over to type again. “I mean, I seem to remember you being absent for Yom Kippur in college.”

“My father was Jewish, my mother's the Catholic. It isn't like they made me sign a contract swearing to pick a side and stick to it in perpetuity in high school.” Anna pulled her glasses off with one hand and tapped an earpiece against her shoulder absently. 

“Still. It seemed to mean something to you.”

“It did and it does, but I mean, once I knew where I was going in politics I knew I'd have a better chance as the second Catholic than the first Jew. I was raised with both religions, so it wasn't like I was lying. And I'm being defensive now.” She slipped her glasses back on and smiled wanely. “Am I distracting you?”

“No, just finishing this email...” Gabriela typed something and clicked before shutting the laptop with a triumphant air.

“Anything I should know about?”

“Not really. If you want to hear what I'm going to officially report tomorrow, Terry Pittman wants to talk to you about – something to do with foreign policy, his email wasn't what I'd call coherent. I turned him down. You've got a new meeting Monday with a journalist from the New York Times, Omar al-Tamami, Daniel told me you know him and usually accept, so that's tentatively a yes. And the CEO of AGO called the office ten or fifteen times. He really wants to talk to you about that legislation you might be supporting requiring the last gas-only cars to be put out of production. I didn't think you would want to?” she added, inquiringly.

“I can't imagine he'll have anything to say that would make me change my mind, no,” Anna said. “See if you can get an idea of what he actually wants to tell me, but unless it's something earth shattering turn him down.”

“Good, I called him back and told him to send me a potential agenda. His voice mails were all very cagey. Apparently he likes to pretend to be cryptic.” Gabriela got up. 

“Thanks. I should let you go,” Anna said, standing as well.

“Oh, no, I was actually going to ask you where I can go to get food this time of night. It's late enough I was planning to crash here – Daniel said it was fine.”

“I hope I'm not overworking you this soon,” Anna said, moderately appalled.

Gabriela shook her head emphatically. “This is still new and exciting – sleeping in the White House? I'd better do everything I can while spending the night at work seems cool and interesting. Anyway, a lot of it's to do with the transition, it should calm down in a week or two. I hope.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Anna said sarcastically.

“It's fine. Really. Food?”

“The kitchens are down the hall, they're used to workaholic insomniacs – actually, why don't you come up to my rooms with me? I was going to make myself food, but I can't get used to cooking for one person.”

“You still cook?” Gabriela asked.

“I like cooking. It's relaxing.” She started out of the office. “And the fancy degreed chefs that I didn't bother replacing don't understand how to make anything that isn't _gourmet_. It wasn't like I could tell them to go find somebody's Polish grandma to hire...”

She was followed down the hallway by Gabriela's laughter, shortly accompanied by the woman herself.

*

“I didn't know there was a kitchen up here.” Gabriela walked around the floating island and peered in the cupboards as though expecting them to vanish.

“Jackie Kennedy had it converted in the sixties, apparently. I think I'm the first president to use it regularly for anything but eating breakfast. Although I don't have time to do anything but thaw the last batch I made right now,” she said, flicking the lights on.

“This is weird.” Gabriela perched on the table, watching her. “I mean, I'm sitting in the President of the United States's kitchen at the end of my first day working as her Chief of Staff and she's making me dinner.”

“This isn't really cooking.” She laid out the frozen pierogies on the counter to begin thawing and started filling a dish with water. “If it makes you feel better, we could probably come up with work to talk about.”

“Why did you hire me that fast?” Gabriela asked promptly.

“I knew you better than the other candidates, and I wanted to find someone quickly to let Daniel retire. He wouldn't have left voluntarily without a replacement, and I didn't want him to leave in a coffin. His doctor wanted him to quit immediately.”

“So just familiarity?”

“I admit the candidate I met before you shook me some.” Anna pulled a chair out and sat down to wait for the water to boil. “Megan Pierce, worked for the Secretary of Defense two administrations ago. She has a history PhD, though, and apparently it's still an interest of hers.”

“Mhmm?” Gabriela leaned back.

“Yes, she was telling me about her doctorate. Apparently it was on, I quote, 'the Jewish pathological obsession with the Holocaust.' She's not Jewish herself, I asked.”

“This has really been a great week for you,” Gabriela said.

“Maybe it's a full moon or something.”

“Do you think she knew you – were, are, whatever, Jewish?” 

“Good question. She certainly didn't know my father's parents came to this country after surviving the death camps.”

“Is it always like this for you? Still?”

“No.” Anna got up to check the pot. “I mean, I can't lie, I hoped it would all just – stop, that people would leave me alone about being a lesbian and Polish and half Jewish, and of course that wasn't realistic. But this week has been bad, like you said. What about you, you must get worse than me?”

“Let's just say I don't speak Spanish on the phone in my office anymore,” she said sourly.

“If anyone gives you a hard time about that here, tell me. I'll chew them out if you aren't comfortable with it.” Anna met her eyes. “Neither of us have to just put up with it anymore.”

“Yeah.” Gabriela smiled back.

The pot lid clanged lightly, making them both jump, and Anna got up to start the food.

When they started eating, Anna looked down, and felt Gabriela's eyes on her. She made herself eat two bites before looking up. 

Gabriela was indeed watching her. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking.” Her tone was slightly strange. “Twenty years ago, you know, I wouldn't have pictured us here.”

“Twenty years ago I wouldn't have pictured us in the same room.” Anna grinned. “Remember when you threw me out of your dorm?”

Gabriela spluttered in laughter. “I meant to apologize for that for months, you know, I just never could work up the nerve to walk up to you and go 'Here's your bra, I'm sorry I forgot you weren't dressed.'”

“It made a great story. 'My college girlfriend dumped me by throwing me out in a T shirt and panties because I said a third party candidate would never win a major election.'”

“Oh, no, have I become a campaign speech anecdote without even knowing it?” Gabriela covered her eyes with her hands, but still grinned.

“No, I promise I only told it at family reunions.”

“That's a relief.” Gabriela mimed wiping sweat off her forehead

“You don't remember how big my family is, do you?” Anna asked, and grinned as Gabriela cringed again. “I really haven't told it in years, though, it's not the best for my nice, dignified image.”

“Oh, come on, at least your college mishaps didn't involve cocaine or DUIs. As far as I know, anyway.”

“I think I tried pot maybe once, and I spent the rest of the night throwing up. Apparently it can do that if you have the right stomach. Drugs are not for me. But most people here would take a reformed drug habit better than 'I spent my undergrad sleeping with every female queer student who was available and into casual sex, one per weekend.'” She shrugged. “What about you, any college embarrassments haunting you?”

“I think they all had to do with overzealous politics.” Gabriela laughed some. “Do you remember I used to be a Marxist? I got arrested for trespassing handing out leaflets with the hammer and sickle sign on them once. I'm glad I was born too late to have to go into politics during the Cold War.”

“The press would have had a field day with you in the sixties,” Anna agreed. “Maybe we'll see an article on it soon, I can add it to the wall.”

“The wall?”

“Let me show you.” She glanced at their plates to verify they were both mostly done and got up. “Come on.”

She walked into her bedroom, opened the closet door, and gestured to the bulletin board on the right wall. “Voila.”

“Oh, wow.” Gabriela walked in to look more closely at the articles. “'Lesbian President Out To Corrupt Children With New Education Bill'... 'Is Krol a Communist?'... 'Krol's Hidden Ties to Israeli Plot' – have you ever even been to Israel?”

“No,” she said dryly. “I think I have a third cousin who made aliyah in the eighties to join the IDF. I've never met him.”

“You seriously save all of the conspiracy theory articles and put them up in your closet?”

“It started as a joke. I don't get anywhere near all of them, but some days I need to remember exactly what I'm up against. The fanaticism and the stupidity.” She walked over to stand behind Gabriela. “My favorite's the one in the corner.”

“Bloody Sabbaths--” Gabriela started to read, then broke off in disbelief. 

“I googled it and figured out they basically translated a Nazi Party article from the thirties and replaced the names.” 

“Your sense of humor is bizarre.” Gabriela turned her back on the bulletin board, shuddering.

Anna moved back slightly, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. “Someone told me that once before in a GSA party. Over the first state to legalize gay marriage, I think.”

“I remember.” Gabriela tipped her head down. 

Anna remembered what they'd done after that conversation and changed the subject quickly. “Anyway, you see why I ran as a Catholic. It's this bad over having a Jewish father and cousins.”

“That's... honestly, really sad.”

“I know. It is how it is.” Anna shrugged.

“I guess you couldn't do anything else if you wanted to win.”

“Gabriela Rosales. Are you calling me an assimilationist sell out?” Anna asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Are you calling me a raving idealist?” Gabriela crossed her arms.

“No,” she said, and giving into temptation, Anna rose on her toes to kiss her.

*

The alarm clock went off. Anna mumbled, sat up to swat at it, and briefly was confused by the arm lying across her stomach.

She squinted and discovered the arm was attached to a person. A familiar person.

Gabriela twisted to bury her face in Anna's side. “Turn off the sun.”

“Not one of my powers.” She got the alarm switched off and brushed off sleep with her hair from her face.

“Ugh, what time is it?”

“Five-thirty AM.”

“Is the sun even up?” Gabriela was not opening her eyes to check.

“No,” Anna said freely, and grinned at the moan of agony that ensued. “It will be in around twenty minutes.”

“You're an inhuman beast and this is why we broke up – ahh, keep doing that,” she demanded as Anna stroked her hair.

“Your will,” she said lightly.

Gabriela shifted to curl up with her face against Anna's stomach, then asked belatedly, “Don't you have to go do... presidential... things?”

“Aren't we eloquent this morning,” Anna teased.

“Go to hell.”

“I don't have anything specific to do for another two hours,” she admitted. 

“Then why do you get up this early?”

“I like watching the sunrise,” she said, and had to laugh at the next groan. “Almost no one else s awake, and the secretaries aren't in yet to screen phone calls, so I don't have to feel guilty about ignoring my phone,” she admitted. “It's nice. I didn't get up quite this early before.”

“That sort of makes sense.” Gabriela opened one eye warily. 

“If you wake up now, we'll have a while before I have to leave,” she added.

“That makes more.” Gabriela opened the other eye and smiled.

They took long enough getting out of bed that Anna had to rush through dressing and breakfast anyway.

“What does this actually mean, anyway?” Gabriela asked, running her fingers through her hair.

“I don't know.” Anna was braiding her own hastily. “Look, can we talk tonight? I promise I'll get to it,” she added at the wariness that crossed the woman's face, “But I'm addressing the Senate about the environmental bill that Haynes is sponsoring, I can't be late.”

“Okay.” Gabriela smiled at her then. “I'll see you tonight, or whenever you need me.”

“See you,” Anna echoed, and leaned over to kiss her before she left. She looked back at a smile like the sun before the door closed.

*

She was joined by the secret service outside the door, one man and one woman, similarly dressed. She nodded to the woman, Julie Greene, and the man.

“I don't know you,” she said to him. 

“Gregory got sick last night,” Julie said. 

The man nodded, looking slightly ill. Anna smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

He smiled back a little nervously. “Kevin McHill, Ms. President.”

“Pleasure.” She offered a hand reflexively. 

He seemed a little surprised, but accepted it. “It's an honor, ma'am.”

She didn't correct the address, but nodded to him and continued down the hallway.

One of the interns approached, looking worried. “Ms. President,” the man said, swallowing visibly, then looked at Julie. “They sent me to get you, there's been a threat called in--”

“Go,” Anna said, when Julie turned to look to her. “I'm sure we'll be fine in the next hundred feet to the exit. It sounds urgent.”

Julie hurried off, following the intern.

Anna continued, but had to stop at the hallway to think where she was going. She blinked unsteadily. She'd lived here for two years, she knew where the exit was.

She felt herself stumble, and put a hand out to grab the wall instinctively. Her right hand. She blinked at the patch on it. That was new.

She needed to get to the car. She tried to stand, but the walls and floor seemed to shimmer and sway, like she was drunk. She wasn't drunk. She needed to get to the car. She was falling.

*

Her head hurt.

She licked her lips, noticing her dry mouth, and tried to shift. That was when she noticed the handcuffs.

Panic hit her, but she smacked it down sharply, fighting to remember what had happened. She had been leaving to address the senate. The new secret service agent – probably not a real agent. There had been a patch on her hand?

“Transdermal tranquilizer,” she muttered, and opened her eyes.

She was in what looked like the back of a truck. She could see the doors a few feet away, chained shut. The padlock would be on the outside.

There were a few crates, but not much cargo. In the dim light filtering through the cracks in the door, it was difficult to tell.

She heard a soft groan beside her and jerked around unsteadily to see what might be a good thing, or a terrible thing, or just a thing: Gabriela on the floor beside her, also bound.

“Hey, sunshine,” she sad.

“Oww.” Gabriela squinted. “Where are we? Anna, did you just call me sunshine?”

“I don't know.” She leaned over to try to see the other woman better and took in a sharp breath; blood was trickling down her head. “What happened?”

“I remembered I needed to ask you... something... and got up to follow you. I saw you pass out on that guy and went over to figure out what was going on and – he hit me?” She frowned in confusion.

“And you passed out?” Worry made another bid to turn into panic. She tried to remember concussion protocols.

“No.” Gabriela shook her head and hissed in pain. “Kind of dazed me for a minute, though. He slapped some weird thing on my arm and I started getting dizzy.”

“The same thing happened to me. He must have put it on when I shook his hand.” She paused. “This is cute.”

“Isn't it. Can you help me sit up?”

“My hands are cuffed.”

“Fuck.”

The floor began to vibrate abruptly, and Anna jumped. Gabriela twitched.

The truck began to move.

“So is it always like this?” Gabriela asked, deadpan.

“It's been a bad week,” Anna said dryly. “You know how to slip handcuffs, right?”

“Yeah. Do you have any hair pins?”

Anna shook her head. “I just use elastics.”

“Maybe there's something in the truck?” 

Searching the truck floor on her knees with her hands tied was uncomfortable and slow and ultimately turned up nothing helpful.

“If you get your hands wet, sometimes you can slip them out that way,” Gabriela said doubtfully. “Or if you dislocate your thumbs.”

“I think having dislocated thumbs would do more to incapacitate me than having my hands cuffed,” Anna said, giving up and making a mental note to start doing her hair in some style that used bobby pins.

“Definitely slower to fix.”

They waited.

*

It took hours. The truck moved, sometimes at what felt like highway speeds, and sometimes slowly with a lot of turns.

On one of those sections, Anna started to feel sick. She blamed the fear, or the drugs. She moved to lie down again, letting her head fall back. Vomit rarely helped any situation.

“Anna?” Gabriela asked. Her voice quavered slightly.

“I'm okay. Just nauseous.” She didn't want to scare her more. “What do you think of the job so far?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“Would have been nice to have warning about the risk of head injuries.” She smiled weakly back. “Not the worst job I've ever had, though.”

“What was the worst, then?”

“Um.” She seemed to think for a minute. “Toss up between this PA thing for a non-profit CEO who thought he was God's gift to the poor and one of my army stints. I mean, the army was awful for my conscience, but I liked the activity.”

“I wanted to ask why you joined,” Anna said. “You always seemed so leftist in college. 'No war but the class war' T shirts and all.”

“That was after I was discharged, though. I grew up really conservative.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You know my parents are, like, really Catholic. They always voted Democrat because they said the Republicans didn't care about the Christian duty to the poor, but they were incredibly conservative on social issues. My father actually said homosexuals should get the death penalty once when I was growing up.”

“Oh god, I'm sorry.” It occurred to her that she didn't know if Gabriela was still in contact with her family. She had never talked about her family in school, but that was common in LGBT groups at the time.

“They came around eventually. It took a few years. Or like ten.” Gabriela smiled weakly at her. “That was sort of why I joined. I knew I was gay, from when I was a teenager. I think I figured if I died in action, serving the country, they'd be proud of me and they would never have to know.”

“I'm so sorry.” She wished she could take her hand, but, well.

The thought brought her back to the present: handcuffed in the back of a truck, hurtling down the road to an unknown destination. She might have fallen back into the silent retreat of terror, but Gabriela bumped her shoulder lightly, and asked, “What about you? When did you come out?”

“Uh, as a teenager. My parents were fine with it. I mean, my mother was nominally Catholic, but my father's synagogue, the one I went to with him as a teenager, had a lesbian rabbi, so I knew that they didn't think gay people were evil or anything. My parents, not the synagogue. They had her over for dinner a bunch of times after I came out, actually.”

“Really?” Gabriela asked, soft. “Must have been nice.”

“It was.”

“Tell me about her? I've never actually talked to any sort of gay clergy. Or met.”

Anna took a deep breath, trying to collect the memories of a woman she hadn't seen in twenty-three years. “Her name was Deborah Schumann, and I had an awful crush on her as a preteen... I could introduce you some time, actually, I think she's still there.”

“Really?” Gabriela asked, turning her face towards her weakly.

“Sure. As soon as we get home.” Anna bit her lip. 

“You'd break your image for me?”

“I – sure.” She tried to smile. “If I'm going to get kidnapped and tied up in trucks no matter what I do, I might as well.”

*

Anna kept talking for a long time after that. A couple of times, Gabriela seemed to drift off mid sentence or abruptly lose track of the conversation. Anna worried she had a concussion after all. If she hadn't lost consciousness from the head injury, it probably wasn't too bad. Hopefully.

Eventually the truck stopped. They were left waiting tensely for only a few moments before the chains were pulled away from the doors, and they came open. 

Gabriela glared angrily at the man standing with a gun pointed over their heads: “Kevin,” the replacement guard. Anna just concentrated on standing while cuffed and looking around once they w  
were out.

They weren't anywhere she recognized; she knew that immediately. The road was paved, but full of pot holes, and surrounded by woods. She squinted at them, hoping to come up with something that might help her figure out where they were, but she'd barely been out of the city in her life; they were just trees to her.

Gabriela swayed some as they walked. Anna bit her lip. 

They had gone to careful trouble not to hurt her. She was maybe bruised, at most, from being dropped into the truck. It must have been more complicated to kidnap the president than it would have been to kill her; they had to go to the trouble of inserting someone into her staff, getting the guards away from her, and getting her out of the White House, as opposed to just setting up a sniper on a rooftop during a speech. They wanted her alive, at least in the immediate future. 

Gabriela, on the other hand, had been grabbed at the last minute to stop her from raising the alarm. They probably hadn't wanted to deal with a dead body on the White House grounds. But she was disposable, and they probably wouldn't care enough to get her medical care for what was looking like an increasingly dangerous injury. And if she was having trouble walking, she would hardly be able to escape on her own.

Cuffed, dealing with an injured companion, unarmed, and completely lost with no idea how to navigate in the woods. Her voice was her only possible weapon.

Then again, that had been true for most of her life.

“What's going to happen?” she asked. Her voice cracked slightly when she first spoke. She swallowed to wet her throat, annoyed.

“In just a few minutes, please, Madam President.”

“It's Ms,” she said automatically. Gabriela stifled a snort. At least she was awake enough to follow the conversation still.

“I'm sorry,” he said, actually looking apologetic. “Ms. President. I promise everything will be explained in a few minutes. I'm just supposed to bring you to the building.”

“Explained by who?” she asked.

The man just shook her head.

She gritted her teeth. “I want to know what's going on,” she tried, but the man just turned his eyes away.

Fine. She could wait a few minutes. She watched Gabriela, trying to decide if she was stumbling more as time went on. Anna wished she could ask how she was feeling.

They were led to a building that looked like someone had cut a door into a plain concrete block and just dropped it into the woods by the road. The inside was equally plain, and more disconcerting; white plastered walls with white tiled floors and bright, flickering fluorescent light. Anna squinted and kept walking.

“Turn here,” the man said. He knocked on the first door they passed in the next hall.

There was a pause. “Send them in!” a male voice called.

The door opened and they were ushered through, into another stark contrast.

Anna stared around at an extravagantly furnished office. The walls were painted dark red, and wood panels came up halfway. The floor was thickly carpeted. The furniture looked expensive – she squinted at the desk and decided it was probably an imitation, not a genuine antique, but with the marble inlaid surface and what looked like silver on the handles, it might be worth just as much.

It clashed awfully with the piled carpet, though.

“Oh my fucking god,” said Gabriela.

The man behind the desk, wearing a mild, puzzled frown and an expensive, well-tailored suit, eyed her. “Yes?”

“Marcus Lancaster. You _had_ to get a meeting this badly? Do you think we're in a goddamn summer blockbuster? What's wrong with you?”

“Um,” said Anna.

“He's the CEO of American Gas and Oil,” Gabriela said, half turning towards her. “I told you he called, right?”

“Ten times, you said.”

“And he wouldn't say why. Well?” she demanded. “You seem to have got your meeting, now talk!”

“I'd like to apologize for the inconvenience,” Marcus began fluidly.

“Definitely not accepted,” Anna interrupted. “What happened to the bodyguard?”

“Hm?”

“The one you had Kevin,” she said the name sarcastically. “Replace. Please tell me you didn't kill him for this.”

“Of course not. Everyone will be fine.” He smiled. It looked sincere. He must have had good acting lessons. “I don't want anyone to be hurt.”

“But?” Anna asked tiredly.

“Oh, no!” Marcus appeared alarmed. “I'm not going to harm any of you. It's just that that legislation you were going to sponsor can't pass.”

“Mhmm,” Anna said dubiously.

“I was going to meet with you so you could change the portion to do with the regulation of transportation technology and its fuel. It's far too disruptive to the economy.”

“And if I'd said no?”

“I'm sorry?”

“What if you met with me and I said no, the impact of climate change was more important?” Anna asked patiently. 

She probably already knew the answer, considering her current position.

“You don't understand,” Marcus said. “Requiring cars to be capable of running off of electricity over short distances would ruin the oil industry, most Americans drive only short distances most of the time--”

“That was the entire point of the bill,” Anna said wearily.

“I'm sorry?”

“Look,” Anna said, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Gabriela, who was starting to sway on her feet again. “You want to challenge the bill, challenge the bill. Address a committee, buy some ad space, run for office. You don't kidnap people and hold them hostage. This is a democracy, Mr. Lancaster.”

“You aren't a hostage!” he said, insulted.

“Then what am I?”

“You're just here to stay for a little while, until the bill fails in the Senate. That's all. It won't be long,” he said comfortingly. “Kevin, take them--”

“Wait,” Anna said. “My – Rosales is injured. She needs medical care.” Blood was trickling down Gabriela's face again. Her short hair was sticking up in odd tufts around the injury, stiff with it.

“I'm sure she'll be fine.” Marcus didn't look up, but picked up his phone. “Kevin, go on.”

As they left, she heard Marcus say into the phone, “Look, the wifi signal is down again, this is absurd--”

*

They were taken to a room which matched the office better than the hallways; the furnishings were somewhat limited, but expensive. There was a single bed, an old fashioned warddrobe, and a small, high window that let light in. An open door led to what was clearly a bathroom.

Gabriela didn't stop at the doorway, but went to the bed and sat down quickly. Anna turned to face the g  
guard

“I'm really sorry about this,” Kevin said once the door was shut.

Anna looked at him and gestured wordlessly.

“I know.” He deflated visibly. “Anyway, there's the bathroom, I'm sorry about the one bed but we weren't expecting another person this time--” 

“Does he do this _a lot_?”

“Once or twice before,” Kevin said evasively.

“Look, that's not the point. My friend is hurt, maybe badly. She needs medical care.” She could see Kevin's face closing off. “Can you at least bring me some bandages? Maybe some disinfect?” You could throw that in someone's eyes, apart from the risk of infection, which was a lot less worrisome than the possibility that something had gone badly wrong internally.

“Okay, I – probably. I'll be right back,” he said, leaving the room. Anna automatically went to test the door, but it was both locked and sturdy.

“It's not that bad,” Gabriela said eventually.

“You almost fell trying to stand up.” Anna went over to her and sat down by her, spreading her hair away from the injury.

Gabriela hissed. “That's not going to do any good.”

“I know, I'm sorry.” She let her hands fall. “I'm just worried.”

“It's fine,” Gabriela said after a moment, leaning into her.

“We have to get out of here,” Anna said eventually.

“Yeah. How?”

“Good question.” She was stuck. “Can I at least wash some of the blood off your face? That can't be comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Gabriela said softly.

She went to the bathroom and found a washcloth, wet it and put soap on it, and grabbed some toilet paper. Gabriela hissed in pain and once retched, but it was over in a few minutes.

A knock came on the door. “He's probably got the bandages,” Anna said, getting up. “Come in!”

It was not the guard who might or might not be named Kevin.

It was Linda Caldwell.

Anna stared for a moment, as the other piece of information she had about Linda's background finally surfaced. “You married his son,” she said.

Terrence Lancaster had been killed in a car crash several years ago. His wife had inherited his share of the family fortune, and the family's political backing. No wonder Linda Caldwell had been able to secure the GOP's Senate leadership.

“Yes, but that's not important.” Linda walked into the room and shut the door behind her rapidly. “He's gone way too far. It was too far the first time, but this is incredible. I don't like you, but this is too far,” she said for the third time.

“Definitely,” said Anna with feeling.

“Look, this is all my fault. I told him that the party was preparing to compromise on environmental legislation and he completely flipped out, it was ridiculous. He's like a toddler angry his toys are being taken away.” Linda paced to the window and back, agitated.

“Where are we?” 

“West Virginia, sort of near Ashland. It's a six hour drive from the capitol.” Linda pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and tossed them onto the bed. “These go to my car, it's parked in the drive, the pick up truck.”

“Linda,” Anna tried to interrupt.

“You have to go. I'll go talk to him and come up with some problem for the guard to deal with. Turn right on the road heading away and you'll eventually get to the interstate, there should be signs.” Linda turned again, and staring at Anna with a sort of frail desperation, said “You have to get him to stop. Tell everyone he did this, they'll care about you. Send him to prison. God, I don't care, send him to hell.”

And with that, she stalked out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Anna sprang up and grabbed the keys, shoving them into her skirt pocket. “Do you think you can walk again?” she asked Gabriela.

“Have to.” The other woman accepted her arm getting up, though, and leaned heavily on her shoulders. “Let's go.”

The white hallways went by quickly. They were almost at the exit when Kevin appeared from a doorway gun raised.

“Look,” Anna started.

Gabriela whirled around, seemed to become dizzy, and retched.

With a cry of disgust, Kevin flinched back, gun wavering off target; Anna grabbed the exit and wrenched it open, pulling Gabriela behind her. She wished she was tall enough to carry her; all she could do was pull her along.

Kevin emerged from the door only a few seconds behind him, but the car wasn't far. He got off one shot before they were behind it, in relative color.

Anna unlocked the car and fell into the seat, Gabriela collapsing into her lap; the keys went in at the same time as she closed the door, and she pulled out from the lot in front of the building, accelerating to almost seventy miles per hour on the road before her heart's pounding began to slow. 

Anna forced herself to concentrate on controlling the car. Escaping was pointless if she killed them both driving too fast in a panic. It was several minutes before she turned onto the interstate and asked, “Do you think you can move enough to crawl out of my lap?”

“Probably.” Gabriela's head was slumped over the parking break, which Linda apparently wasn't in the habit of engaging, and her legs had slid between Anna's seat and the door. “Give me a few minutes.”

It took almost ten for her to inch her way out of Anna's lap into the passenger seat. When she did, she cranked the seat the whole way back to lie down and slumped.

“I should find a hospital,” Anna said, resisting the urge to stare at her instead of the road.

“No. You should get us to DC so we can find out what they think happened to you.” Into the dubious silence, she said, “Look, you're just supposed to rest for a concussion anyway.”

“After there's an X-ray to check if your brain is bleeding.”

“If you take me to the hospital, you'll have to leave to go to Washington DC right after I go in,” Gabriela said.

“Probably.”

“I don't want you to leave me alone in rural West Virginia, six hours from home, in a hospital I don't know with total strangers and maybe fine or maybe about to drop dead. Just get me out of here, Anna, love, _please_.”

Anna did glance to the side then, and after, with her eyes back on the road, she pushed the speedometer back to seventy.

She slowed down when they had to switch roads, and twice to get gas, but otherwise kept the car going as fast as she could. Linda had left her purse in the car; there was a note in the wallet, scribbled with a shaky hand, that said 'Take as much as you need.'

“Would have anyway,” Gabriela said, squinting at it. “Her asshole father-in-law kidnapped us. Could've killed me.”

“She doesn't seem to like him much. I'll be right back.” Anna glanced around for bystanders, uncomfortably aware they were on the northern edge of the Bible belt, and leaned over to kiss Gabriela before she got out of the car.

She stopped at the gas station store long enough to get water and poured some of it down Gabriela's throat before finishing the bottle herself. Then they were back on the road.

They made it back to Washington DC in a little over five hours. She wanted to go straight to the hospital, but she couldn't think well enough to remember where. Reflex took her back to the White House once she was close enough. Anna's hands were shaking as she parked her car.

Reporters swarmed them about ten seconds after she was out of the car and visible again. She heard a few words, disjointed – eco-terrorists, attack, escape – but couldn't put them together into sentences. She realized, distantly, that the adrenaline had worn off a long time ago, and she was going into shock.

“I need an ambulance,” she gasped, steadying her hands against her thighs. “I have the Chief of Staff in the car with a head injury. Someone call 911, please.” Into the frozen silence, she turned, crisis training reasserting itself: “You,” she said to the closest reporter. “Call, now.”

She waited until she had heard him recount the message before turning back to the crowd. “And,” she said, concentrating hard on keeping her face hard and her voice strong, “I need to tell you what happened.”

*

Between statements to the press and the secret service and the FBI, and being looked over at the hospital, and subsequent reports from the secret service and the FBI, she got back to her bedroom after midnight. Visiting hours at the hospital were long over.

Anna called them, argued with several people until she at least got confirmation Gabriela wasn't dead, and passed out fully dressed on the bed. 

Early the next morning, she showered the dirt of the truck and the highway and more than a little bit of Gabriela's blood off herself, dressed, verified that she knew both of the secret service guards outside her door this time, and left to see her Chief of Staff. The emergency was barely over. Her morning meetings could hang for all she cared right now.

Anna didn't really believe it was over until she walked into the hospital room and found Gabriela sitting up in bed, absently spooning eggs into her mouth in one hand and scrolling CNN's front page on her tablet with the other.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning.” Gabriela smiled at her. “You're going to start calling me that stupid nickname all the time again, aren't you.” Her voice was still weak.

“Is there another one you'd like better?” Anna pulled a chair over and sat down next to the bed, feeling her heart pound.

“Literally anything?” Gabriela spooned the last bite of eggs into her mouth, put down the fork, and reached out for Anna's hand.

Anna took it, and after a thought raised it to her lips to kiss. “We never did have that talk.”

“No.” Gabriela turned towards her. “I know this isn't... professional behavior.”

“It isn't,” Anna said softly. 

“Which is absolutely the only good thing about the fact that I'm banned from working for the next month.” 

Anna broke down in laughter at Gabriela's glare, as she continued, “And you cannot possibly train a new candidate for one month and then go back to someone who worked for you for all of a week, and when I called Daniel to ask if he could stay for another few weeks his wife took the phone from me and threatened to call in a bomb threat to the White House every day for that month if I tried to get him back. So if you're asking, you have me as a girlfriend. Just apparently not a Chief of Staff. _Stop laughing_.”

“I'm sorry,” Anna gasped, rubbing her face. “Really, just – I can't imagine you on rest for a month. Are you stuck in bed?”

“For another two days. I hate you.”

“I promise I'll visit.”

“You'd better.”

Anna leaned over and kissed her. “I'm not going anywhere. Sunshine.”

“Good. Fuck you.” Gabriela slid her hands into Anna's hair and returned it.


End file.
